Avengers Christmas Drabbles
by Fishyicon
Summary: Whether you call it Christmas, Yuletide, or that word in Russian Clint can't pronounce, Christmas brings the same warmth and family time for everyone. Except this is the Avengers. So not quite. Pepperony, Clintasha, Bruce/Betty, Thor/Jane. Happy Holidays!
1. It's not Christmas without death threats

**Disclaimer: **Joss is the boss.  
**Characters/Pairings: **Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff (this chapter)

For BlueEcoFreak and Lyssie212. Happy Holidays to all!

* * *

It's not that Natasha dislikes the holidays. No, no, it's not that at all. She definitely likes the idea of Christmas, likes the celebration and cheer and bright colours and lots of food, even if it all takes place a few days earlier in America than it would in Russia.

It's just that this is the first time since she was a small child that she's actually done anything remotely Christmas-related.

Clint, being Clint, wastes no time in noticing her slight apprehension. Handing her a drink and taking a seat on the stool next to her, he asks, "You good?"

"Yeah, of course." The look he gives her says that won't do, and when has she ever been dishonest to him without life-or-death reason? "It's just taking a while to get settled, that's all. New place for the holidays every year."

"Well, this is nicer than where we were last Christmas," Clint says, his eyes doing a sweep of the room and all the people in it.

Natasha's brow furrows slightly. "What, you mean Mumbai?" He nods once. She shrugs, thinking back to the high ceilings and oriental music and assassination assignment. "I don't know, I thought that place was pretty classy."

Clint picks something up off one of the nearby trays and pops it in his mouth. Chewing it carefully, he ultimately decides there must be better things to eat and very inelegantly spits it back onto his plate. "Though the food here certainly leaves something to be desired in comparison."

"And I'm not wearing a fancy dress," she teases, smiling slightly and giving him _that look_. The look that can easily reduce her targets (or, in this case, him) to speechlessness.

Slightly distracted, Clint's eyes sweep over her quickly as though remembering her in burnt orange, just a few shades lighter than her hair. ". . . You could put on a fancy dress. I have no objections to you in a fancy dress."

The look she gives him in return is more disparaging this time. He shrugs his head slightly. "Only if you put the penguin suit back on," she retaliates.

"I'll have you know, I looked _awesome_ in that," Clint boasts. She rolls her eyes at him as he takes a drink.

There's a pause in which they both merely sit there, watching the people around them who are meant to be their team but are quickly beginning to feel like family. The annoying, dysfunctional, peeping-into-matters-they-shouldn't sort of family, but it's family nonetheless, and it's more than either of them have had in a very long time.

Clint, of course, is still the most important to her. In the years they've been working together, all the missions and gun fights and hostage situations and bruises, he's become more than just family; in her world, Clint's a fact. Black Widow and Hawkeye. They simply exist beside each other. And, though that kind of relationship (though she's never sure how exactly to define that relationship-partners, co-workers, best friends, more . . .) has its advantages, it also has its disadvantages. Trusting so few things, so few people, takes its toll. In their world, every moment is spent on guard and the only people they can depend on are one another. It's kind of nice, Natasha thinks, to have a minute to just sit down among others without too much worry.

Then again, looking around the room and at all those present, she supposes there's always room for some worry with the Avengers around.

Clint clears his throat, prompting her to look up at him. "Still, there's a tree here. That's important." He chuckles and takes another sip from his glass. "And we're not in any immediate danger of being shot."

"It's nice you feel comfortable saying that," Natasha murmurs under her breath, narrowing her eyes at him. Clint coughs up his drink, and that's enough to get a full smile out of her. Nothing to make a Black Widow and Hawkeye Christmas complete like a couple of off-hand death threats.

FIN


	2. Green

**Disclaimer:** Joss is, unsurprisingly, still the boss. Of everything.  
**Characters: ** Bruce Banner/Betty Ross (this chapter)

This chapter is for Steph, who has been bugging me to write these two for a while. Happy Holidays, everyone!

* * *

He finds her on the balcony.

Bruce isn't really sure what he's supposed to say at a time like this. Ask her how she's doing? Try some cheesy ice-breaker? Tell her he's sorry, sorry he hadn't called sooner, sorry Tony had to be the one to finally get her here, sorry he's avoided her since she arrived, sorry he experimented with gamma radiation in the first place? None of those seems particularly appropriate. There's only one thing he can say, really. "Hi, Betty."

She turns around and faces him, face betraying nothing, then says very helpfully, "Hello to you, too."

He chuckles a little, shuffling towards her. "I, uh, just wanted to apologise for-"

"If you came out here to talk about Ross or anything that happened these last couple years, I don't want to hear it." She levels him with a look that makes him quiet down and pay attention. "Really. I don't care what my dad says, or even what you think is best. You don't get to decide. I do." She grins suddenly, and he can't help but mirror her, even though he doesn't really know what's going on. "And I decide I want to be here."

He continues to smile at her awkwardly for a minute, those few words significantly relieving some of the anxiety he'd felt since Tony had insisted on finding some clever loophole around Ross's lock-down in order to invite Betty, if for nothing but Christmas. Bruce is glad he did, now.

"Okay. Well, let's pretend that's not what I came to say," he reasons, hand dropping to his pocket, fingers fumbling until they reach their target. Betty is watching him in part confusion, part bemusement. "I got you a Christmas present," he says lamely.

Betty's face breaks out in a grin nevertheless. "That's so sweet. You didn't have to, really."

"It's not much," he insists. "Really. I just thought, you know, when Tony told me you would be here, that I would look pretty stupid with nothing for you, so I-" He catches himself rambling and stops. "Anyways, here." She takes the small box he extends towards her, and he delights in her excitement, despite her humble words a moment ago. Betty undoes the ribbon and lifts the top, eagerly glancing inside the box, and quickly reaching in to pull out its contents. He grows more and more nervous as time ticks on.

"Oh, Bruce," she says, holding up her gift. He hadn't known what she would like, especially not after being apart for so long, but he assumed she still liked jewellery. So, after more time spent contemplating than he cares to admit to, he settled on some earrings with snowflakes, a small and probably fake stone inset in the center of each one. If possible, Betty's smile grows brighter. "They're beautiful. Thank you."

"Like I said, not much," he reminds her, still convinced she deserves something much better from him. "And I didn't exactly know what you wanted this year, so . . ."

He trails off at the sound of Betty's giggling. "What?" he asks, startled?

"It's just . . ." She holds them up for him to see, and his eyes catch on the small jewels in the middle. "They're green."

Bruce nearly slaps himself. How could he have missed that? _Way to go, Big Guy._ "I'm sorry. You're right, I'm stupid, you don't want a reminder of that. Here, I'll just . . ." He reaches to relieve her of them just as she leans in to kiss him and that stops his entire thought process rather effectively.

"They're beautiful," she says, forcefully but still lightly. "Perfect. Now I can have a little piece of you with me." Then her smile fades slightly. "But I don't have anything for you!"

Bruce nearly blurts out _You're enough_, but then thinks that might be a going a little too far. "Really, don't worry about it." Just then, a new song starts up inside, one he recognises. "Although, if you're adamant, I'll accept a dance."

She laughs for a minute, then narrows her eyes in challenge. "Well, get me a drink first and you've got yourself a deal."

Bruce casts his eyes over to the table set up by the bar. "So, do you think Tony spiked the eggnog?"

Betty smiles wickedly. "Do you wanna go find out?"

FIN


	3. Not quite the Yule Ball

**Disclaimer: **Joss is the boss. Duh.  
**Characters: **Thor/Jane Foster (this chapter)

This is sort of kind of for The Beckster, since I had the idea and didn't know what else she'd like. Happy Holidays!

* * *

"Explain to me again: How does this large poultry fit into your celebrations?"

Jane is torn between laughing again and rolling her eyes in frustration. Here she'd been hoping to spend a nice Christmas evening among old and new friends, catching up with Darcy and being introduced to everyone on this Avengers team she's tactfully been kept out of almost eight months ago. Instead, she's spent a good part of the last hour trying to explain the concept and history of Christmas to a Norse God, and if for some reason that sounds like fun, believe her when she says it isn't.

Not that she's not happy to spend more time with Thor. She's very, very happy to spend more time with Thor. But it's just her luck that the only Avenger she has a relation to is completely clueless as to what's happening and what the purpose of this celebration is. Apparently, the rest of the team hadn't done a fantastic job explaining it.

"It's called a turkey," she illustrates patiently. "You cook it up with lots of vegetables and bread inside, and then you eat it."

"Like a traditional feast, then?" Thor asks.

"Something like that, yeah. Except you make it sound so formal. Really, it's just a lot of conversations with food in your mouth and people shouting to pass the gravy. It was mostly good fun, though, as a kid."

Thor laughs at that. "Ah, then it is indeed rather like a feast. I should like to partake in this tradition."

"Well, I'm sure there'll be turkey soon," Jane ventures. She'd reason that turkey for this many people is hardly practical or easy to pay for, but this is Tony Stark and those are two restrictions his world is just not bound by. "So, you don't have anything like Christmas back on Asgard?"

"Verily, we do," Thor replies. "The festival of Yule is celebrated in a similar fashion during the wintertime on Asgard. The symbolism is rather paralleled as well. As a matter of fact, your tradition of the Claus bringing presents to children in his chariot drawn by deer spawns from one of our own, of the Lady Freya who would distribute gifts and good fortune to those deserving. And Loki was often up to his old tricks with the mistletoe-you do have this on Earth, yes?"

Jane nods. "Yeah, we do. And that's . . . mostly right." Then something occurs to her. "Wait, if you have Yule on Asgard-which is essentially the same thing-why do you need me to explain all this?"

He smiles disarmingly. "I enjoy listening to your explanations, Jane Foster. You have a very riveting way of describing the memories you attribute to this celebration from your childhood. And your voice is very pleasant to listen to. Please, continue in your recounting."

Jane, blushing slightly, decides she can put up with a couple more questions about Earth's holiday traditions, as long as that's the kind of reaction she's getting.

FIN


	4. In which Tony is clever, not cheap

**Disclaimer: **Must I really go over it again. I own nothing but my pretty new computer named JARVIS.  
**Characters: **Pepper Potts/Tony Stark (this final chapter)

For Kkann, my better half in so many ways and ultimate partner in crime. Happy Holidays!

* * *

There are few sights Tony Stark enjoys more than his girlfriend approaching him with a smile and a glass of alcohol.

"Having fun?" Pepper asks, handing him a glass of champagne. He stands up and takes it from her, standing close enough to feel their shoulders brush together.

He glances around at their many friends. Coulson amicably striking up a conversation with his hero, Steve. Clint and Natasha quietly chatting by the bar, leaning towards one another-probably unconsciously, because it figures that the two master assassins would be the so-cute-you-want-to-gag pair. Then again, Bruce and Betty, laughing and pretending to dance, give them a run for their money. Jane and Darcy are talking to Thor, who appears to be illustrating some Asgardian animal with antlers by using his meatloaves of hands to gesture them above his head. Even Fury looks like he's having a good time, though Fury has the emotional range of a lamppost so it's kind of hard to tell.

As for him? "I guess I'm okay." He turns his head to watch her smile in encouragement. "Host is a bit boring, but he is outrageously handsome, so I have to give some points for that."

"So I hear," Pepper answers. "Well, you know what would make us feel better?"

"What?"

Pepper grins. "If you gave me my present."

He chuckles. "Well, I suppose you've been pretty good this year." He fishes the small parcel out of his pocket and hands it to her. "To Pepper, from Tony."

"With love," she finishes, kissing him quickly on the cheek. His emotional state is already improving significantly.

"Something like that," he answers, watching as her very petite hands search for her gift among the wrapping. When she finally pulls it out and examines it for a few seconds, she shoots him exactly the look he'd expected: not impressed. "What? Don't you like it?"

"It's a pepper shaker."

He pulls something out of his other pocket. "And I have the salt, see? We're a matching set. I thought it was cute."

"I think it's cheap."

"You're accusing _me_ of being cheap? There was a time when I thought you were smart, you know."

"You'll be paying for that one later."

"Are you going to be not-so-subtle again?"

"You bet."

"You know, you're complaining about this, but I notice I didn't get a gift from you yet."

Pepper gives him a different look. "Your keyword there is 'yet'. You'll have to wait till later, I'm afraid. I've stashed it somewhere else for now."

"Well, I don't know, but I'm still not feeling much better after that," he tells her.

"Then go socialise!" Pepper exclaims. "I'm sure Happy would like to talk to you some more. Or Steve. Or Clint and Natasha. Or any of the other people here. They're all your friends, Tony, and it's Christmas. You should be happy to be spending time with them where you're not all carrying weapons."

He purses his lips. "Not feeling super social right now, to be honest. I'd rather a quiet Christmas for a couple minutes. You and I could just . . ." he hints, jerking his head in the direction of the hallway.

Pepper lifts an eyebrow in a way that makes him feel like his plan has already been foiled. "What? Are you saying we should just up and leave right in the middle of _your_ Christmas party that _you _wanted to host and invite all these people to."

He offers a shrug in reply. "I think I'd call it _implying, _really. I never outright said that."

"What about dinner?" she asks in that calm, challenging tone she uses often, as if daring him each time to come up with a good comeback. "Are you forgetting about that?"

"I'm not forgetting anything. Okay, well, I'm probably forgetting a lot, but food isn't one of them. But there are other things that might take precedence, you know." He puts down his glass and reaches for her, slowly pulling her closer with hands on her waist even as their conversation continues.

"Really. Things like what?"

"Again, there's a lot of really obvious subtext I think you're missing here."

"I thought I was stupid."

"That was, of course, a joke. Ms. Potts, you are one of the most capable and clever people I know, and that's saying something, considering the people I know." He's nearly got his arms completely around her at this point, and the fact that she isn't moving back out of reach yet is a good sign.

"Are you just buttering me up to make up for the pepper shaker?"

"Is it working? Because your answer might change mine."

She shakes her head in disbelief. "You are so full of it."

"If by 'it' you mean good looks or impressively innovative ideas, then yes."

Pepper's head drops forward slightly as she laughs, forehead almost bumping his chin with the minimal distance between them. Has he mentioned that's another sight (and sound) he loves? She lifts her eyes back up to his and sighs. "So, you really want to just put everything off for a couple minutes, grab an old holiday movie and go get lost in Stark Tower?"

"Or Europe. We could always go get lost in Europe."

"I'm not sure that would be practical. Or safe," she reasons, still teasing. He, despite the bad timing, is completely serious.

"I'd protect you," is all he says, and it's only half-teasing at this point.

They immediately sober up again. She smiles at him, and he returns it, knowing he's won this battle. "All right. You go pick out a DVD and I'll meet you in the media room for a little down time."

Tony races over to the movie cabinet and grabs the first green-and-red case he sees, quickly dashing back and grabbing Pepper's hand, lacing their fingers together and pulling her along.

Apparently she has one last thing to say. "But if Thor comes demanding turkey, I'm not going to be accountable."

"Shh, just blame it on Coulson and run."

FIN


End file.
